The selected suggestion:
A top-level tournament of some intellectual pursuit, like chess or crosswords or whatever. An amphitheater or auditorium or some other large building with lots of competitors. -TheFwank
"No, you can't call a judge because I'm wearing a t-shirt with words on it. This doesn't qualify as an unfair distraction. Having breasts is not some evil ploy of mine. Just go. If you're having trouble, then concentrate more on your side of the board. Look- it's your turn," Corrine snapped at her now red-faced opponent. Shit like this had been happening all tournament- people blaming their poor plays on her chest and she was so, so fucking sick of dealing with it.
Part of her was tempted to leave, but the larger part was still the one that wanted to win the Mystic: The Confluence Pro Circuit Cup Qualifier. And despite all the headaches of the day, she was one of the few people in the tournament with a spotless match record. It was an impressive feat for an unknown player, made even more noteworthy by her gender and physique. The crowds gathered around her table grew as her standing improved. Corrine played a feature match on camera and afterwards was asked to do a deck tech with the coverage hosts, but declined. She wanted to stay focused.
Not that she needed focus to win game one against this shaken opponent. He was playing the spells of his combo deck in a sub-optimal order, and she was buying even more time for herself with disruption: a few Desecrate Minds later and he was down to two cards in his grip. She calmly swung for seven with her team, then looted once from Wisperthief's triggered ability. She played a land during her second main phase then passed the turn.
It was either go off with his combo now, or scoop. He looked at his desecrated hand, then at her lethal board, then miserably at her chest again. "I can't play like this," he muttered. "Judge!"
Corrine leaned back in her chair in disgust and mouthed "oh for fuck's sake," even though she wanted to scream.